A Life, Lived in Pieces
by Leaper
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a man named Paul, who met the woman of his dreams, raised a family, and thought the rest would be easy. This is the story of how he found out otherwise.


**AN: Yeah, another bit from me. I got this idea musing over this portion of neglected backstory, and thought I'd give it a shot. OC names are from this other, longer 'fic I've written - check it out through my profile if you feel like it! This was very hard to write (and I mean literally, not emotionally), but there came a point where I felt like I just had to finish it and let the chips fall where they may. So positivity from those who liked it would be appreciated.  
**

**Warning: This deals some with stuff that happened during "On My Way"; if anything in that episode heavily upset you, you might want to be careful here.  
**

* * *

**1983**

Paul was 19 and thought, with the foolishness of youth, that life couldn't get any better. It was fall, and a carpet of orange crunched under his feet as he made his way across the OSU campus. He was blowing off one of his lecture courses because, dammit, this would probably be one of the last mild days before winter, when he'd _want_ to be in class because it'd be fucking _warm_. There was no way he was going to waste it listening to some tenured fossil drone on about contracts; it wasn't like he wasn't going to pass anyway.

A mopey grin coming over his face, he breathed in the snappy autumn air, tinged with an earthy note that managed to overcome the wafts of car exhaust from the nearby streets. A round of the campus, then to the coffee shop for a hot drink... Yeah, this was _way_ better than sitting in some lecture hall taking notes he'd just be able to bum off one of his classmates.

He didn't understand why more people didn't like fall. Summer was way too hot; sure, it was a relief to jump into the pool or eat ice cream, but if it weren't so hellish, you wouldn't _need_ to do it in the first place. Winter, yeah, there was skiing and sledding, but there was also _snow_ on the fucking _street_, where you wanted to do stuff like drive and walk. As for spring... overrated, as far as he was concerned. People just liked it because they were just so relieved after being cooped up indoors all winter. But fall... That was the stuff. The weather was just right, and who but the most uptight asshole could not look at the trees and see beauty?

Speaking of beauty... Paul immediately zeroed in on the girl sitting on the bench ahead of him. Her long red hair quivered in the breeze, at least where it wasn't held down by the small, pert hat perched atop her head. Her black coat was pulled around her, a checked collar jutting out from underneath. Her red-painted nails tapped against the seat as she looked around, her creamy face tinged with just a hint of blush from the coolness. _Oh, yeah._

Before she could react, he'd already sat down next to her. She looked him up and down in annoyance. "Can I help you?"

"Hi. I'm Paul." He stuck out a hand, which she coolly regarded as if it were a gecko climbing up her wall. He dropped it smoothly. "I'm a lawyer."

A perfectly trimmed eyebrow quirked up. "Really."

"Well, fine, pre-law, but it's all the same."

"That doesn't answer my question: can I help you?"

"I could ask you the same thing. You seemed lonely."

"Not exactly. My friend was supposed to meet me here half an hour ago, but..." She stopped, shaking her head. "Why on earth am I talking to you about this?"

"I dunno," Paul replied with a smile. "I always was easy to talk to. It's a gift."

The girl snorted. "A lawyer, huh? You know, Shakespeare said, 'The first thing we do is kill all the lawyers.'"

"Okay, first off, the line is 'The first thing we do, _let's_ kill all the lawyers.' Secondly, you know who said that? A guy named Dick the Butcher. Not the name of a nice guy, is it? He was an anarchist, real piece of work. I say, if he wanted lawyers dead, that's reason enough to think we're doing good."

By the time he finished, her jaw had almost literally dropped. With visible effort, she gathered herself. She cocked her head, regarding him for a long moment; Paul tried to will his heart to slow down a little. Finally, she spoke once more. "My name's Diane." She was the one who stuck out her hand this time, her lips pressed in amusement.

He took the proffered hand (_God, it's so soft... so warm..._) and shook firmly. "Pleasure's all mine."

Paul Karofsky was smug.

* * *

**1984**

Paul's friends were astonished. "Dude, first anniversary? Seriously? And you've _never_ even looked at another girl? No, seriously, you do at least look, right? No? Shit, you are whipped."

Diane's friends were amazed. "What did you do to him? I hear that he has this rep of being a real party animal. Really? He hasn't dragged you to one kegger? What? Rooftop? _Candles_? Damn, where do I find someone like that?"

Paul could tell you about what he loved about Diane: her eyes, her hair, her smile. But then he'd get to the things about her inner self, and his voice would turn even more tender (a fact that would've horrified the Paul Karofsky of a year and a day previous).

He loved her wit. He loved her intelligence. Most of all, he loved her passion. Sure, it was for a church that he couldn't care less about, but she was as far from his stereotype of the insufferable, uptight Christian as she could get. She had a sense of humor, for one. For another, after asking him once to come with her to church one Sunday, she actually _stopped asking_ after he politely turned her down. She might've been afraid for his soul, but she at least had the decency not to harangue him about it. She also wasn't one of those weirdos who thought the Bible literally meant every single thing it said. "If I did, I wouldn't be able to wear polyester or eat lobster. I think God's plan for us is a _little_ more important than following every little detail of how we were supposed to live back when the Bible was first written." Most of all, she wasn't a fucking hypocrite; she actually _lived_ by what she believed. Every Sunday was church, sure, but there were also alternate Wednesdays at the soup kitchen, organizing monthly clothing drives, petitions and posters, and even a protest once. Against what, Paul didn't really catch; he was too busy swirling his spoon around in his soup and staring into those eyes.

Paul's aforementioned friends constantly asked him when she was gonna "give it up." The subject had actually been part of their third date's conversation. "You can't say you're surprised," she'd said.

Paul had shrugged. "No, not really. Not a lot of fun, though."

She had smirked. "Yeah, well, I'm not the one crying into a pillow or worried about pregnancy because some guy decided to love and leave. Look, it's not that all men are pigs - even though you are - it's that... I really do believe that sex should be intimate and precious and... well, _emotional_. Not just a way to get twenty minutes of cheap thrills." She had held up a finger before his open mouth could make any sound. "Ah! No jokes about your staying power, Paul."

"You know me _so_ well," he'd grinned.

"Scary, isn't it? Seriously, though, I just want my first time to... _mean_ something. If you can't respect that, I'll understand. But we need that to be clear right now."

He'd been silent for a moment. Then he took her hand into his. "I think I can handle myself." His eyes had gone wide as she nearly bent over double laughing. "No! God! I mean... I think you're worth waiting for." That did it; her laughter stopped cold.

That was ten months previous. So it was official.

Paul Karofsky was in love.

* * *

**1986**

Another seemingly interminable day at Moritz had finally ended. He couldn't wait until the hell of law school was over. Then he could enter the entirely new and fresh hell of studying for the bar. And after _that_ would be the hell of finding employment. But somehow (and fuck him for having these kinds of pussy-ass thoughts), it all seemed to just... slip away the moment he came home.

Even though she was working full-time trying to find a job that would make use of her MBA, Diane would always have some form of dinner waiting. "Not because you expect it," she said sternly, "but because I want to."

That night, they sat at their cramped table set up in the middle of the kitchen, the lasagna artlessly cut and the salad just ever so slightly wilted from a little too much time in the refrigerator. The small portable TV set on the counter was on; it was late, and Diane always wanted to catch the news. The story currently on was about one of the "hot" diseases of the year, AIDS. She shook her head sadly at the pictures of emaciated men in hospital beds.

"I can't imagine dying like that..."

Paul nodded absently. "Yeah." He didn't offer anything further; he wasn't sure he wanted to continue on this line of conversation. The one sticking point between the two was her social conservatism. It wasn't that Paul was particularly liberal - such beasts were rare in Reagan's Midwest - but his attitude towards the Big Issues could charitably be described as _laissez faire. _He simply didn't think about them all that often. Take the issue currently on the TV. It wasn't that he hated, or disliked, homosexuals; it's just that they were kind of an abstraction to him. He certainly didn't know any, so how could he form a solid opinion? Besides, every time he saw a mustached guy wearing leather in the newspaper or on TV (because they certainly weren't common in freaking _Ohio_), he couldn't help but shudder. Not that he didn't feel vaguely guilty about it.

"I don't think it's their fault," she continued as she absently sipped at her glass of water, staring at the flickering, cramped black and white screen. "Father Parrish thinks AIDS is an act of God, but I know that's not true." One of the things about Diane's beliefs that relieved him is that she didn't think that God was in control of every tiny thing man did and experienced. Otherwise, she argued in one of their casual debates over ice cream, what would be the point of free will and judgment? "They just... they just don't know any better. It's like life set them up to fail. Absent parents, poverty, this damn sex-obsessed culture..." She sighed. "I know you wonder why I'm so active in charities sometimes. I think that's one big reason right there." She gestured vaguely towards the TV. "To intervene before _that_ happens. To set lives on the right track. The soul's important, yeah, but if the flesh is miserable, that makes saving the soul so much harder."

There it was. The opening. Paul coughed. "Hey... If we ever have kids..." Diane turned towards him with raised eyebrows. "How do you think we should raise them? I mean, with the church and everything?"

She frowned in thought. "I think finding God is very important."

"But you couldn't give a shit about me, huh?" he asked with a smirk.

Diane laughed and threw a wadded up napkin at him. "You're an adult; you can make your own decisions. With me in your life as a positive example..." She snickered as he made a face at this remark. "I think you'll come around. But children... Yeah, they're different. They do need to be guided from an early age. What you do when they're young provides such an important foundation."

"You know, I don't mind if they're religious... I just... what you said about your pastor and an act of God..."

"Then I'd find a church we'd both find acceptable. You wouldn't even need to come with me, as long as I could take our children."

Paul nodded. It seemed fair enough. And what harm was it, really? Diane was certainly much more "love thy neighbor" than "fire and brimstone." Even if her views on some issues, like homosexuality, were getting a bit outdated, if the news was to be believed... well, again, it was an abstraction. She wasn't advocating for oppressive laws ("The government leaves the church alone, so I think it's only fair we return the favor"), so what was the big deal?

"But..." A look came over her face as her fork scratched her plate. "Isn't it a little early to be talking about children? I mean, we aren't even..."

The ring box felt like lead in his pocket.

Paul Karofsky had never been so nervous in his life.

* * *

**1988**

The lightly dozing, pink little bundle in Diane's arms seemed so fragile. Paul wanted to warn her to not squeeze too hard. But even after having been through hours of labor, he knew that she'd still be able to snap his neck in a heartbeat for even daring.

"Welcome to the world, Jack Karofsky," Diane cooed softly.

"My little boy..." he breathed. His fingers gently rubbed the tiny (oh, God, so tiny) hand. The baby barely twitched in his slumber.

"We're a family now. A real family."

"I know. It's..." Awe-inspiring? Terrifying? Overwhelming? None of the words that went through his mind seemed to fit. "Incredible."

Jack yawned. The simple act sent both adults' hearts into a tizzy.

"He has your nose," Diane said.

"Yeah. Genetics is cruel, isn't it?"

She snorted. "I'm sure he'll bear it with pride, just like his daddy."

Daddy... It was the first time anyone had ever called him that... well, maybe except that one time in his sophomore year at OSU after that one sorority bash, but this context was a million times better.

Paul Karofsky felt like his heart was about to burst with joy.

* * *

**1991**

The candlelight flickered across both their faces. Diane, resplendent in her slinky black dress, raised her wine glass as violin music swirled around them. "To us."

Paul, not noticing his tie was a little crooked, clinked his own glass against hers. "To us."

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

"And many more."

Diane smiled, her teeth gleaming in the dimmed light. "When we first met, I wouldn't have thought that you were capable of being so..."

"Stable? Serious? Domestic?"

"All of the above."

"What can I say? You changed me. Jack changed me."

"For the better, as far as I'm concerned." The china sparkled in the dim light as they ate. "I'm looking into preschools for Jack."

"A little early for that, isn't it?"

"I can't stay home forever. You're running yourself ragged trying to support this family by yourself."

"Yeah, well, I don't mind..."

"I do." She touched his hand gently. "The late nights take you away from both of us. Having another income would take a lot of pressure off - you can't deny that."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I just... Having you being there for Jack has just been so good for him..."

"I know, and I've enjoyed it too. But Sacred Heart has a great program. They really start teaching good values early. And I could finally put that MBA to good use."

Paul nodded. "Okay," he said. "Let's see what we can do."

Diane smiled coquettishly. "In the meantime... More wine?"

"Don't mind if I do."

"Mommy?" The weak, sleepy voice rang through the room.

Diane sighed, but with a smile, as she rose from the kitchen table. "I've got him."

"Hurry back. Oh, can you turn down the stereo on your way? It's a little loud."

The violin music went down a notch as he watched his wife disappear from the room.

Paul Karofsky was content.

* * *

**1993**

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Can we see Mommy and the baby soon?"

Paul lit up in a smile. "Yeah, really soon!"

"Can I hold him?"

"Maybe. We'll see."

After what seemed like ages, the nurse tapped him on the shoulder with a smile. Taking Jack's hand, Paul followed her to the hospital room where his wife and son were waiting. Paul picked Jack up gently so he could get a better look. "Look who's here!"

"Mommy!"

"Hey, baby." Diane's voice was tired, but happy.

Paul leaned so that his two sons were just about face to face. "Jack, this is your little brother David."

"Hi, David!"

The baby responded with a blank blink.

"You're the big brother, so you have to watch out for him, okay?"

Jack turned wide eyes toward his father, as if impressed and astonished by this grown-up assignment of responsibility. "I will, Daddy." He turned back to his brother, whose eyes were darting about the room. "We'll play when you come home, okay?"

The parents smiled.

Paul Karofsky felt his life sliding into place.

* * *

**1998**

Paul chuckled at the wide-eyed wonder on his sons' faces. They'd been to Cleveland and Cincinnati, but New York City was a completely different animal. Walking its streets was a little like walking through, well, a concrete jungle, through canyons defined by glass and metal mountains of dizzying heights. The growls of passing motors and the roar of tires echoed across the paved paths.

"Daddy, it's tall!" David cried out, pointing as if he'd never seen a building before in his life.

"Duh." Jack rolled his eyes. He was starting to get into _that_ phase, as Diane put it - the "too cool for school, or anything else for that matter, because I'm a _grown up man_" attitude. Even as he walked around, trying not to look impressed at the tall buildings and fragrant street food, Paul could see his eyes and nostrils twitching nonetheless.

"Come on, hurry it up," Diane said with amusement. "We're almost at FAO Schwartz."

"The toy store?" David cried out eagerly. Even Jack's attempts at detachment seemed to crack at the thought.

"That's right! That's why we..." She stopped dead for a moment, staring down the sidewalk. Paul was about to ask what was wrong when she started herding the boys across the street. "Let's go this way, you two."

"Diane...?" he began, pointing towards 5th Avenue, which was directly ahead of them.

"This is a shortcut," she told Jack and Dave, ignoring Paul entirely. She ferried them through the crowds traversing the crosswalk without even so much as looking back.

Paul frowned in puzzlement. He looked down the street and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Well, there were those two guys in leather jackets, holding hands and nudging each other affectionately, but this was a big city, so there were all kinds. It certainly wasn't the in-your-face, body glitter and g-string kind of stuff that made him so uncomfortable.

When he caught up to Diane and the kids, and whispered a question, she simply muttered back something about a strong foundation.

"Mommy?" David asked suddenly.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Were they married?"

Diane stopped dead. "Who, honey?"

"Them!" David pointed back towards the two leather men, who were waiting for a crosswalk signal. "You and Daddy hold hands all the time, and they were holding hands, so..."

Jack rolled his eyes again. "Of course not, dummy! They're..."

"Just confused," Diane interrupted, casting a warning look at her older son. "They... Hmm. They think they love each other, but... It's not the way it's supposed to be..." She sighed; Paul immediately recognized that as code for "oh, God, how do I explain this to a five year old?"

"It's not?" David asked with a serious look.

Again Jack cut in. "But Jeannie's mom says..."

"Jeannie's mom says a lot of things," Diane replied with a roll of her own eyes. Paul knew of said mom: one of the more in-your-face liberals in Lima, the kind with pro-pagan, anti-Republican, and vegan-friendly bumper stickers all over the back of her fuel-efficient compact car. "She's not your mother; I am. And what those two men were doing is wrong."

David frowned. "Oh. Okay."

Paul Karofsky said nothing; there was no reason to start an argument in front of his boys, after all.

* * *

**2001**

"I don't want to go."

The newspaper twitched in Paul's hands. He slowly lowered it, giving him a subtle, if clear, view of his wife and elder son. Diane was on the couch; she blinked up at Jack as if confused.

"I don't want to go," he repeated.

"But sweetie... you've been going to church for years now. Ever since you were a little boy. You love the choir, and..."

"I don't like it there."

Diane leaned forward in concern. "Is there something wrong? If you don't want to sing in the choir anymore, you don't have to, but..."

"It's dumb!" Jack shouted. Paul twitched; Diane nearly recoiled in shock. "There's no such thing as God!"

"Jack, honey..."

"I'm not going to church anymore." He turned on his heel and ran upstairs. The slamming door caused David, napping in his father's favorite chair, to twitch awake. After a moment of confusion, his eyes settled closed once more.

Diane cast a worried, bewildered look at her husband. Paul shrugged helplessly, knowing even as he did so how idiotic the gesture must have made him look.

"I'll talk to him later," he said in an attempt to save face.

They only found out later how, the previous Sunday, Jack had started questioning Father Mitchell about various points of God's existence and morality. These questions had evidently been overheard, and not appreciated, by some of his churchgoing peers, in particular the elder brother of David's friend Azimio. There was no violence, no fists flying, but the words and imprecations had apparently been enough.

Upon hearing this, a horrified Diane tried to comfort her son. "This is part of God's plan for you," she whispered.

"You always say that," Jack muttered bitterly.

Paul Karofsky saw his elder son at home a lot more on Sundays from then on.

* * *

**2004**

"Unbelievable."

"What is?" Paul asked as he emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel.

"That." She gestured at the TV. The news was running a story on Massachusetts becoming the first state to give marriage licenses to gay couples. "I can't believe it's come to this."

"Oh?" he asked mildly as a pair of middle aged women hugged each other on the screen.

"What do they expect to accomplish, redefining marriage like that? What kind of foundation does that give children?"

Paul stayed silent. As the issue had grown more and more mainstream, his wife had become more and more upset. _Family_, she'd say. _Family is everything. And what kind of family benefits from promiscuity and confused gender roles?_ He'd long since learned to let her vent harmlessly. As long as nothing stoked the flames...

Almost as if by an act of divine providence, Jack Karofsky flew through the front door, tossing his letterman jacket onto the floor.

"Closet, son," Paul said warningly.

The tall young man gave a sheepish grin as he picked it up and opened the closet door, sticking his jacket in and slamming it shut. He didn't notice his father shake his head as he turned towards the TV. "Hey, they passed the bill? Good for them."

Diane whipped around towards her elder son. "It's not right."

"Not right for them to be treated like human beings?"

"Not right to be demanding special treatment..."

"They just want to be given the same rights as everyone else..."

"Not right for the children..."

"Oh, God, not the 'won't someone think of the children' argument..."

"Well, _someone_ has to!"

"I can't believe you think that gay people are going to hell just because of who they love..."

"Sex is _not_ love..."

"And I keep saying..." The teenager shook his head. "You know what? This is pointless." He stalked off.

"John Murray Karofsky, you will treat me with resp-" The door slam cut off her words. She groaned, rubbing her face. Paul stepped forward and started massaging her shoulders. "Did we do something wrong, Paul?"

"He's a headstrong kid. A lot like his mom." Diane snorted even as her tension melted away under the massage. "You want me to go talk to him?"

"Maybe in a bit." She sighed. "Paul?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think Jack... is...?"

"Is what?"

"Is... oh, never mind. It was a silly thought anyway." A pause. "You agree with me, don't you? About this gay marriage issue?"

"Oh, no, I'm not getting dragged into this. I have enough conflict resolution and politics to deal with at the office."

Diane's hand slipped over one of his. "No, really, I'm asking."

Paul shrugged. "To be honest, it's not something I really think about. I mean, Dennis, Ray Windom's receptionist, is gay, but he seems nice enough."

"Oh, I know they're _people_, Paul. They're not ravening sex maniacs or anything; they've just made bad decisions. We all do that. But it's just... when they start making all this fuss... It sets a bad example for the children, you know? It's one thing to do what they do in the privacy of their own bedrooms, but to shove it into our faces like that, and not _care_ if we're offended... Attitudes like that... it's like a disease. It spreads..."

The tension was starting to bubble up again. He pecked a soft kiss on the side of his wife's neck, which calmed the roil somewhat. "Relax. Just... try not to think about it. You're not one of those sign-wavers..."

"Good, because I hate them."

"See? I can tell you're starting to feel more relaxed already." He planted a kiss on top of his wife's head. "I'll talk to Jack later."

"Thanks... I just... I just wish I knew what he was thinking sometimes. Why he can't see the harm being done to the institution of marriage."

"Well, I just thank God ours is still good."

Diane smiled. "You'd better believe it."

Paul Karofsky, in his happiness, had no idea that the door to his younger son's room was cracked open.

* * *

**2006**

"I... I know we've had our differences..."

Jack smiled weakly, shuffling his feet. "That's sort of an understatement, Mom." The front door was wide open; the taxi was already waiting at the curb. Paul could still clearly remember when he and his family would've been allowed to see his eldest son off at the airport gate. Those days were long gone.

"But... I am proud of you. Really. I just wish you didn't feel like you had to go all the way to California to get away from us..."

"Mom, I keep telling you, 'SC is a good school. I hate leaving, really."

Diane shook her head a little. "Well, regardless, we'll all miss you. Especially David." She gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek and a hug, which was returned, if just a tiny bit stiffly.

"Mommmm...!" the young boy whined in embarrassment, squirming in his father's shoulder-grip.

"Have a good trip, son." Paul wrapped Jack in a tight hug; the younger man clapped his father on the back, then knelt in front of his brother.

"I'm gonna miss you, bud."

"Yeah..." David said softly, his gaze firmly focused on the ground. "Me too. I guess."

Jack mussed his brother's hair, to said sibling's annoyed glare. "You ever need to talk, just e-mail me, okay? Any time. I mean it." Paul was a little startled at the dead serious look that came over Jack's face then. David himself didn't seem to notice; he just nodded.

With that, Jack slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, nodded silently to his family one last time, then made his way down the walk towards the waiting taxi.

Paul Karofsky watched as his eldest child spread his wings and left the nest.

* * *

**2008**

"... That's the main thing, son. Respect. If you want to build a lasting relationship with a woman, you need to treat her with respect."

Paul was having a hard time talking earnestly while simultaneously chopping potatoes; he'd already had a near miss at least once. But the night's dinner wasn't going to make itself, and with Diane at the office late, it was down to himself and David.

David was growing up fast, literally and figuratively. He was already almost as big as his father, and Paul's own memories of that age (as filtered through rose-colored lenses as he knew they were) told him that this was the time to have that talk with his son. Not _that_ talk; that one had already occurred, and was every bit as awkward as he'd feared. But this one was perhaps even more important for David's future happiness.

Now if only he'd respond with anything more than grunts.

Paul sighed as he scraped the diced potatoes into the waiting pot. "I know it seems obvious or trite, David, but it's true. It's not because women are weaker or need us to be complete. It's that they're human, and they _deserve_ respect." He paused thoughtfully. "And it's the little things that count, too. When I was dating your mom, it wasn't the big bouquets or the big boxes of candy she really appreciated or remembered. It was that time I picked a daisy for her as we were walking through the park, or the milkshake I shared with her that one night we went out for burgers. I wish I'd known that then; I could've saved a lot of money."

David gave a single snort of good humor as he stirred the stew pot.

"Seriously, though, I hope we've raised you to be considerate towards everyone. Any girl you date will appreciate it."

"I suppose." It was more than David had said for a while now, and it was tinged with a heaviness that startled Paul.

"Come on now, son, don't be so down on yourself. You're smart, you're respectful, you're reasonably attractive..."

David groaned. "Oh, God, I don't need to be hearing this from my own dad..."

Paul's face burned, despite himself. "You know what I mean. I know I'm supposed to be saying this because I'm a parent, but you're a great catch. Any girl would be lucky to have you." Another grunt came in reply, almost drowned out in the bubbling of the simmering stew.

Paul Karofsky wondered why his words didn't seem to be getting through.

* * *

**September 28, 2010**

"Congratulations on your first day!" Paul said jovially. "Your mother sends hers too, of course."

"Thanks, Dad." Jack's voice was enthusiastic and warm over the phone, more so than his father could remember it being for a long time. "I'm just lucky I got the TA-ship; I'm not sure I could've afforded grad school otherwise."

"You know your mother and I would've helped you out if you needed to."

"Thanks, but I'd rather not... I'd rather stand on my own." There was a lot behind those words, a lot that Paul knew, and some that he didn't. A twinge went through his chest, through his mind, one that he actively had to suppress. "Hey, could you let Dave know?"

"Sure... But I would've thought he'd already know, the way you two talk on the Internet."

There was a silence on the other end of the line, deep and heavy with something that sent an unreasonable shudder of fear through Paul. "We... haven't been talking much lately."

"Really? Is something the matter?"

"I think... I... I don't know." Jack's voice was shot through with discomfort. "I'm not sure I should..."

"I could talk to him if you..."

"No!" The sharpness of the word caused the phone to jump in Paul's hand. "I mean... I'm sure it'll blow over. Really. We've just both been busy."

"I know. David's really been throwing himself into football. It's actually a little impressive."

"Football? What happened to hockey?"

"He switched." Paul frowned slightly. "I'm not sure why; he loved hockey. I asked, but he wouldn't say..." Silence stretched through the line. "Jack?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry, Dad. Just thinking..."

Paul Karofsky felt the first inklings of the darkness to follow that night.

* * *

**November 11, 2010**

Father Mitchell came downstairs, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I tried knocking at his bedroom door, but he wouldn't answer. It was locked, but I don't think it would've been right to try to enter at any rate."

Diane sighed. "It was worth a try. Thank you." After a few more platitudes, Paul showed the priest to the door with a promise of regular updates. The second the door snapped shut, Diane collapsed heavily onto the living room couch. "What's going on, Paul? What's wrong with our son?"

"I don't know," Paul replied hoarsely as he sat beside her. "Has he even eaten anything in the past two days?"

"I'm not sure." She leaned her head on her husband's shoulder in despair. "I called Jack. He's ready to come home to help, but I made him wait until the weekend. I don't know if that was the right thing to do." Tears began squeezing past her tightly shut eyelids. "I just... don't... know..."

Paul sat beside her and rubbed her hand, fighting back his own tears. "Hey, it'll be okay. David's a strong kid. Whatever's wrong with him, we'll figure it out, and... we'll get through it."

Paul Karofsky wished he believed himself.

* * *

**November 21, 2010**

"It's none of your goddamn business!" The shout rang clearly in Paul's ears, nearly unmuffled by the closed door. He paused, the little voice in his head chiding him for becoming one of _those_ parents warring with his ever-increasing worries. The latter was winning, by a rather large margin.

"Leave it alone, Jack," David's voice continued. "I'm not... Will you quit... What are you implying?" A pause. "Fuck you! I asked you, what the hell are you implying?" Another, briefer pause. "Fine, then. You can go fuck yourself for all I care. Don't _ever_ call me again. Don't write, don't Skype, don't even show your fucking face around here while I'm around or I'll rip it off!" Pause. "Shut up!" David screamed at a volume that would've penetrated even if Paul had been downstairs. The crack of plastic against a wall followed, which was in turn followed by a silence Paul could almost feel. Here, he felt, a decision had to be made: go in and demand answers, or quietly turn away and deal with this when David was calmer.

Paul Karofsky made the wrong choice.

* * *

**November 23, 2010**

The drive home was silent - dead silent. Paul looked over at David, hunched in the passenger's seat, and opened his mouth to speak at least four times. Nothing ever came out.

The instant the car came to a halt in the driveway, David leaped out and almost ran into the house. Paul wasn't sure he could really blame the kid. He knew how he must've sounded in the principal's office, never defending his own son. And he wanted to, God, how he wanted to, but then a voice whispered in his ear. _David hasn't been himself lately. He's acting out. Maybe he needs this. Maybe he needs to face consequences for his actions. Maybe this'll bring the real David back..._

He sighed, resting his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment, before pulling out his cell phone and dialing a number. Diane picked up immediately from wherever she was in Chicago. He wondered what sort of hyper-important meeting he was interrupting. "What happened?" she demanded.

"David's been expelled," Paul replied hoarsely. "He... God, what's happening to...?"

"I don't know." The voice was choked with uncertainty, with tears. After a moment, there was a sigh. "I called Father Mitchell. He's just as confused by all this as we are." She paused. "He also thinks... he can help David."

Paul's heart leaped. "Really?"

But Diane's voice remained weary and sad, which sent his mood plunging again. "I mean with school. Three school board members go to our church, remember? He said that if anything happens with David, that he'd talk to them, and..."

"But... should we let him? Maybe David would be better off somewhere else. Maybe he needs this to get his behavior under control..."

"I... I don't think Father Mitchell will see it that way. And you know him; he always does what he thinks is right." Even here, even now, admiration for the man shone through in her voice like a searchlight. But Paul's emotional state didn't allow him to think of it any further than the mere acknowledgment. All he could think was, _So I abandoned my own son in front of others for nothing. _Darker thoughts followed.

"It's because of Kurt Hummel, isn't it?" Paul burst out. He would never be quite sure what made him think it, let alone say it. Something about looking at that kid in the principal's office, at his worry and fear... A look that he had seen on his own son's face far too often of late... "It's because he's..."

"Don't say that!" Diane snapped. "Father Mitchell isn't like that! He just knows David. He knows he isn't this angry bully that beats up kids weaker than him..."

"But Di... That's what he's been doing."

"I..." She sighed once more, sounding as tired as Paul felt. "I just don't know..."

Paul Karofsky couldn't help but feel the same.

* * *

**February 5, 2011**

As the stands started to empty out, Paul's head was whirling. David had told them (or perhaps, muttered perfunctorily) about this whole halftime show thing, but seeing his son out on the field, performing like that... It sent little cracks through his image of David and what he was like. Only this time, it wasn't a bad thing.

As his eyes swept the crowd, looking for the best way to leave, he saw them: Burt Hummel with his wife and son, slowly making their way to the edges of the bleachers. Paul turned to Diane. "You go on ahead, okay? I'll join you and David soon." Without waiting for a reply, he forced his way through the crowd towards the Hummels, knowing even as he did so that he had no idea what he wanted to do or say. What _could_ he do or say? He still didn't know by the time he reached Kurt Hummel. The boy's back was to him, separated from his parents by the crowd. Paul watched, rather than felt, his arm rise and tap Kurt on the shoulder.

The teenager turned. "Mr. Karofsky!"

"Ah... Hello, Kurt." Paul's stomach sank further, now fully feeling what a bad idea this was. "I hope you're doing well at your new school..." He winced at his own thickheadedness the instant the words left his lips.

But Kurt seemed to take it in stride. "I'm doing very well, thanks." There was an awkward pause.

"I... I wanted to apologize, on behalf of my family."

"Please, Mr. Karofsky, that's not necessary..."

"No, it is. What David did to you is inexcusable. I wanted you to know that we didn't ask for him to be let back in to McKinley. His pastor..."

"I heard." Kurt's face turned dark. "You go to St. Luke's, don't you?"

"Yes..." Paul frowned, searching his memory for any mention made from Diane or David of the Hummels attending. He could find none. "You've heard of it?"

"I have. And I've heard of Father Mitchell. It explains a lot, actually." Paul was about to question this odd remark when the boy took a glance behind him. "I should catch up with my parents. Please, Mr. Karofsky, don't blame yourself. And tell David he was wonderful in the halftime show."

He ran off through the crowd, Paul staring after him. He wondered how he must've looked to those around him, gaping the way he was.

Kurt Hummel had every reason to hate his son, hate his entire family. Paul couldn't imagine what he'd think and feel if Jack or David had been through the same. Yet this... kid spoke to him with openness and something approaching friendliness. He'd actually _complimented_ David with a straight face, not a single hint of deception in his face or voice. That thin slip of a boy... After everything he'd been through, after everything _David_ put him through...

Paul Karofsky's opinion of gay people started to shift, ever so slightly.

* * *

**February 15, 2011**

"Mom, Dad, this is Santana."

She was quite attractive, Paul had to admit, even through his mental self-ass kick for thinking like a dirty old man. Santana smiled as Dave put an arm around her shoulder. "Nice to meet you both."

"The pleasure is all ours," Diane said warmly. "Please, sit down." Both couples took a different sofa. "Tell us a little about yourself, Santana. How did you and David meet?"

"We met at the Lima Bean," she replied as she patted David's free hand. "We were both getting coffee and we just sort of... bumped into each other, didn't we, sweetie?"

David flushed. "Yeah," he rumbled. Paul hid a smirk; it was cute how nervous and smitten David was.

"We'd seen each other at school, of course, but we started talking," Santana continued. "We discovered we had a lot more in common than we thought. One thing led to another... and we started dating."

"So, Santana..." Paul began, "I understand you're a cheerleader?"

"That's right."

"Ah. I was thinking you looked familiar. I've seen you at David's games."

"Yes, he is quite a wonder to watch, isn't he?" She rubbed her leg up against David, who flushed even further.

Paul couldn't help but catch his son's eye in that moment. _Nice going, son_, was what he was thinking, and he couldn't help but think that it came through in that oh so brief look. But why not? David was doing better. He was not as angry anymore. His grades were starting to inch ever so painfully back up to the way they were. Now he even had a girlfriend who could help him keep an even keel, make him a better man. He only hoped that David could feel how proud he and his mother were of him at that moment.

Paul Karofsky had no idea that David knew only too well.

* * *

**May 20, 2011**

Paul was so wrapped up in the Sunday paper and waffles that it wasn't until Diane started clearing the breakfast dishes that he realized that David still hadn't made an appearance.

"Can you wash up?" his wife asked, stacking everything in the sink. "I'm going to be late for church. Remember, I'm helping with that fundraiser Father Mitchell is running for his camp right after..."

"What about David?"

"I promised him I'd let him skip church this weekend, remember?"

"But I'd have thought he'd be up by now..."

Diane smiled. "He's probably still asleep, if his prom was anything like mine." She shook her head, lost in memories. "That Santana girl makes him so happy. I hope they won their prom campaign."

Paul nodded absently. After a few minutes, Diane was gone, and David had still not appeared. It wasn't until around noon that he finally did so, looking worn and tired. "Big night?" Paul asked casually from the couch as he watched the game.

"Yeah."

"Have a good time? You're only young once, you know."

There was no response.

Paul Karofsky later wondered what would've happened had he pressed.

* * *

**June 9, 2011**

"Transfer?"

"Please... I can't go to McKinley anymore."

"Why not?" Diane glanced at her husband, seeing the same puzzled look that she herself wore. "You've been doing so well. Your grades are going back up, your football team won the championship, you're dating Santana..."

"We broke up, remember?" David snapped impatiently.

"Oh." Diane's eyes widened. "Is this because of her? Because if it is, David, you don't have to change schools to avoid her. You'll find another girl, and she'll..."

"It's not about Santana!" David's voice was hoarse and strained, as if barely able to keep from screaming. "It's..." He looked up at them, and Paul was stunned by what he saw there: a rim of tears, desperation, despair. It was a look he knew too well, and one he'd prayed he'd never see again. "It's hard to explain. I just... I just need to be somewhere else." They barely heard the next word, it was whispered so low. "Please."

The two parents looked at each other again. Finally: "Well..." Paul began. "There's Thurston. It's not too far, and one of the partners at my firm knows the principal..."

A wild hope sprang into David's eyes. "Really? That... that would be great."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow. But you'll have to explain this, David. We're worried about you."

He sighed. "I will, I promise. It's just... I need to do this, okay?"

Diane patted her son's hand gently. "Okay."

Paul Karofsky felt the old worry begin sneaking into his gut again.

* * *

**October 15, 2011**

"See you guys later!" A flash of blue denim and a baseball cap streaked by, and the door slammed shut.

Paul twitched the newspaper aside. "Where's he going?"

Diane barely looked up from her crossword puzzle book. "Visiting his friend Nick, remember?"

He grunted as the paper went back up. "He's been visiting Nick a lot these past few weekends."

"It's good he's making friends at Thurston."

Paul nodded, forgetting that his wife couldn't see the gesture. "Is he going to be out late again?"

"I think so. Is that a problem?"

"No, no... Not anymore. I just... I don't know. I worry."

"We both do. But at least he's with people who he feels comfortable with."

Paul Karofsky agreed, even though he had no idea that the comfort his son sought involved pulsing bass, karaoke, and bare-chested men in scandalous positions.

* * *

**February 14, 2012**

"Er... David? What is this?"

Paul had only taken a glance into the back seat of his son's car, but that glance was all he needed. The lump of black fur was certainly not something he saw every day.

David practically ran the rest of the way from the house to the driveway. "Oh, that's... uh..."

"Is that a _gorilla_ mask?"

"Yeah. It... I, uh, I'm kinda playing a prank on a friend of mine."

Paul instantly grinned. "Ah, that brings back memories. I should tell you about the time your old man pulled a prank on the Sociology department back at OSU that they still talk about today."

David smiled weakly; Paul supposed that he didn't want to leave the door open to have to listen to his father's endless stories. "Yeah. Sure. I gotta go, okay?"

"Don't forget your mother and I are going out to dinner tonight. Hope your evening goes well!"

Dave's smile grew stronger, more genuine. "Yeah. Me too. See you later!" As he drove off, it occurred to Paul that David had been very mysterious about his "plans" for tonight. Maybe he had a date of some kind? Getting back together with that Santana girl, maybe?

Paul Karofsky hoped so; his boy deserved love.

* * *

**February 21, 2012**

Paul Karofsky, his exhausting work day finally lightening up, decided to go home early.

* * *

**February 22, 2012**

The house was dead quiet. Diane was somewhere - he didn't really listen when she told him where. Not that he was sure he cared. All he could do was sit on the couch and stare at nothing in particular: turned-off TV, wall, clock that was tick-tick-ticking away.

David's doctor practically threw him and his wife out of the hospital by their coats. He was full of "I understand how you feel, but he needs to rest" (how? How could he possibly know what he and Diane were feeling?) and "hospital policy..." (fuck hospital policy! That was his _son_, his _little boy_, lying in a hospital bed, his neck still red from that goddamn belt...), the sanctimonious prick. It felt good, the misdirected anger... It kept him from feeling anything else, anything he didn't particularly want to be feeling. It also deafened him to the motor pulling up outside, then most of the rapid knocking on the door.

Something about the pounding jarred him out of his stupor. Rising, he went to answer it, ready to glare at the person on the other side until they left him the fuck alone. He opened the door, mouth open to yell... and stopped cold, the anger dying in his throat.

Jack stood on the porch, a single duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his face pale. Paul stared for what felt like an hour; he'd actually forgotten his frantic call to his elder son's cell phone, barely able to spit out the words amongst stutters and sobs. His eyes clouded with worry, Jack wrapped his father in a tight embrace. Paul returned it, the tears finally wrenching out of them.

By the time Paul returned to himself, the two were suddenly inside, on the couch. He vaguely had a sense of Jack having asked a question.

"I don't know where she went," he answered. "I... I was a little distracted..." He looked up at Jack, dazed. "How did you get here so fast, anyway?"

"My roommate's girlfriend works for United," came the slightly hoarse reply. "She pulled strings. A hell of a lot of strings. But I'm here now, so it was worth it." They both fell silent for a moment. _There it is again_, Paul thought:_ that tick-tick-tick. _ "When can we go to the hospital?"

"Soon. Your mother and I were a little... overzealous over the past few hours. We're trying to give them a little space so they don't ban us." Paul scratched his head, but the gesture meant to relieve an itch turned into nearly a full-fledged hair pull. "My God, why?" he cried. "Why did he do this? He didn't even leave a note; if he'd died, we never would've..."

Jack stared, eyes wide. "Holy shit, you really don't know yet?"

Paul whipped his attention towards his firstborn. "Know what?"

"Mom can't know; she would've tried to brainwash him already if she did..."

"Brainwash? What... Jack, what the hell are you talking about?"

"This is all my fault, Dad. I should've tried harder. I should've told Mom to lay off. I should've tried to get it through your head that..."

Paul leaped to his feet; anger was rising in him, a foreign and scary emotion that nevertheless, by its very nature, overwhelmed his personality, his better judgment. "You'd better tell me what the _fuck_ you're talking about _ri__ght this moment_, or I swear to _God_ I'll..."

"Dave's _gay_, Dad!" Jack nearly screamed the words in his father's face, the two men standing almost nose to nose, their chests heaving with emotion.

But those three words punctured Paul's anger like a balloon. "What...?" First, there was _I couldn't have heard him right._ Then there was _No. That makes no sense. __He dated a girl. He..._ Then came _It all fits. Everything fits... Oh, God, it all fits so well...  
_

Jack looked stricken for a moment, but continued. "He's gay. And you and Mom... You two..."

Paul sat heavily on the couch, his legs suddenly unable to support his weight. "How... how do you know..."

"It was a lot of things, even back before I left home. It..." He shook his head sadly. "Trust me, Dad. He's never told me, but..." There was a weighty silence. "I'm going to go to the hospital. Before you or Mom go back, you should... I dunno, think about this. I don't think he needs more homophobia in his life right now, do you?" Jack didn't get a response, but he didn't expect one. He simply turned towards the door. "Don't worry about me. I got a rental car." Then he was gone, leaving Paul alone with his shock. The hours passed.

Once again, he was too lost within himself to hear the door open. He looked up, and there was Diane, with Father Mitchell trailing close behind. Paul found himself standing, wheels starting to turn in his mind. The eyes of him and his wife locked. After over a quarter century of marriage, they _knew_ each other, in a way few could honestly say they could match.

"You know," Paul whispered.

Diane nodded dumbly. "D-David told me last night," she finally rasped. "When you went to get coffee. I asked him why, and he told me... He was so scared, Paul..."

He turned towards Father Mitchell, pieces of memory sliding together in his mind. His sermons, his interviews on the local news, that camp... Haven Lake Camp, it was called... And he remembered some conversation he was only half-listening to at the time, Diane telling him about the work it did. _"It's a wonderful place, Paul. It works with kids who've lost their way. If you could read some of these success stories... The marriages this place has brought together..."_

_Oh God._

"No." The word came out of his mouth before he could consciously tell himself to say it.

"Please, Paul, I know this is a difficult time," Father Mitchell began smoothly. "But it's important we start thinking about how to help David get past this going forward..."

"Father... If you could excuse my wife and I for a minute..." He turned towards her; he had no idea how he looked at that moment, but her widening eyes told him volumes.

"Of course." The two went to the kitchen; the swinging door was barely closed before Paul started speaking again.

"What the hell, Diane?"

"He needs us, Paul. We've failed him, and he needs us more than ever. Father Mitchell..."

"So you want to try to 'cure' him of being gay? Is that it?"

Diane closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to will calm into her. "Why are you fighting me on this? You know what I think about... about this! All these years, you never once said anything!"

The guilt stabbed through him, nicking his aorta and burying itself into his stomach. "You're right. I didn't. I didn't think it had to anything to do with me. But it does... did. It always did." He swallowed. "I have to do what's right."

"So do I. Father Mitchell says that David can go to Haven Lake next month. He..."

"No!" Paul turned away from his wife for a moment, feeling dizzy. It was all starting to become too much: blow after blow after blow to his gut, to his mind, in less than 24 hours. "I'm not letting you or Father Mitchell do this to David!"

"Do what? Try to help him?"

"By telling him he's some kind of diseased freak that..."

"Don't you _dare_ put words in my mouth! David is not a freak! He's just confused, and he needs help to..."

"He doesn't need that kind of help! There's nothing wrong with him!"

"Yes, there is!" Diane's eyes were starting to mist, and for once, Paul didn't feel the urge to run over and hold her, comfort her. "If he had cancer, if he had depression, you wouldn't be so stubborn!"

Paul's jaw dropped. "You actually compared him being gay to cancer or depression." All through this, he couldn't help thinking of Kurt Hummel, of what David did to him, of how the kid must have felt... "If David's gay, we need to support him. We..."

"Being gay _put a belt around his neck_, Paul!" she shrieked, the tears running freely now.

Paul shook his head. "No, Di. We did that. Father Mitchell did that. You were right... We did fail him."

"How dare you!" Diane hissed. "How dare you even imply that I..."

"You two made him feel like a monster, and I let you do it. And now you want to go back to that hospital and keep on doing it. No more, Diane. I won't allow it."

"I am his _mother_. I have a right to..."

"And I'm his father. And in a few months, David will be 18. Until then, I'm going to do everything in my power to keep you from sending him to that camp. I'll be _damned_ before I let you do that to him." He started towards the kitchen door.

"Where the hell are you going?"

When he spoke, it was with a hardness and coldness that startled even him. "To the hospital. To my boys. Where I'm going to get down on my fucking hands and knees and apologize, and tell him that I love him gay or not, and that I'm not going to let Father Mitchell tell him there's a fucking thing wrong with him."

"This isn't over, Paul," Diane said tremulously. "I love David too, and I'm _going_ to help him the way he needs. And you can't stop me."

"Don't you know?" Paul looked over his shoulder at his wife (for how long? It wasn't something he could stand to think about right now, not with everything else). "I'm a lawyer."

Paul Karofsky made a choice, and he finally, _finally_ felt like he made the right one.

* * *

**1983**

"I believe very strongly in a lot of things." Paul blinked; the statement from Diane seemed to have come out of nowhere. One moment, they were chatting and laughing, the next, it all turned so... _serious_. "I've lost a couple of boyfriends because of it." She looked up at him. "If you can't handle that, tell me right now so we don't waste our time."

"Hey, I like a woman who knows what she wants." He casually slipped his arm behind her shoulders, resting it on the edge of the bench back.

"I'm serious. One of the things I believe in is commitment."

"All my friends think I'm committed. Or should be."

She couldn't help but giggle. That one light sound, that one smile that accompanied it... It meant something. He felt it deep down, in every pore.

Paul Karofsky felt like the future was limitless.

**AN: I had several main purposes for this: to explore the idea that Dave's mom wasn't necessarily an overt, ravening homophobe (or why else would she and Paul have gotten married to begin with?); the idea that if she weren't, that was potentially even worse; and that Paul himself might have had a hand in what happened without even realizing it.**

**(Oh, and in case you're wondering if the timeline changed, it has; I readjusted Paul's age and the year of his meeting with Diane to hew closer to Daniel Roebuck's actual age, mostly for realism's sake.)  
**

**This story is now, as far as I can tell, my most rec'ed piece thus far. Not bad for a story that sat on my HD for weeks because I wasn't sure I could take it where I wanted it to go. Thank you, everyone!  
**


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